Striptease
by THIS-IS-NOT-SPARTA
Summary: ON HIATUS Arthur wanted to be a regular college student, but his rent was due and he had no idea how to do a 'regular job'. So he went back to his old profession. College student by day and a popular male stripper by night. If that wasn't weird enough, his new roommate is Alfred Jones, the boy who bullied him throughout high school and who now wants to make amends.
1. Chapter 1

**Striptease**

**Rated M:**

**Stripping, sex, drugs, abuse, prostitution, minor character death, angst, inappropriate sexual humour, stereotyping...I think that's everything?**

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Sexy Naughty Bitchy Me

The bass pounded through his skin, his body pulsating with the beat as he moved. The cool metal of the pole against his back felt so good against fevered skin that he moaned as he slid down against it. His moves were unusually sloppy, he hadn't meant to get so drunk before a show, but the alcohol's influence made him better – more confident. He threw himself around the pole like a lover, grinding animalistically. Sweat dripped from the ends of his hair and down his chest, glistening against the glitter body-spray. The techno beat got faster and Arthur found himself thrusting his hips to the beat. He gripped high on the pole and pulled himself up, using the grip of his thighs to keep him steady as he leaned back to run his hands through his hair. With another groan he slipped slowly down. His body was alight with sensation. The ecstasy was making him buzz and groan with every touch against the pole or down his body. As the music reached a climax he ran his hands down his bare front to the small apron covering what people would later pay more to look at.

The thumping took over and he threw himself to the stage floor, face-down, grinding against its scratched-but-shiny surface. The crowd went crazy as he crawled towards them, running one hand over the bulge beneath his apron before rising to play with his lip. He rose to his knees and couple of fingers crept inside his mouth and he began to suck on them while lightly thrusting his hips. He thrust harder, gagging slightly and moaning around them as loudly as he could. He could sense the money practically raining around him. He felt charged, his blood pumping in his ears along with the music enveloping him. His song was almost over but he never wanted to stop. With a shuddering breath he slowly pulled his fingers out and traced the piercing around his left nipple, playing with the bar. He then moved down to the one at his naval and gave it a flick that made it dance in the light. People were reaching towards him, desperate to touch him.

There was another dancer after him though, so he casually scooped the money up from around him and drunkenly strutted to the back curtain once more.

He'd made more money than usual which would please his boss. A good show meant more drinks sold and a higher percentage of tips.

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It was time to get out on the floor so Arthur left the dressing room and was walking down the corridor behind the back-wall of the club before his boss's younger sister grabbed his arm. "There's a queue for you in the back-room going out the door." She said almost pleadingly. "My brother wants you in there." Her long nails were biting into his skin so he pulled free.

"I've already made it quite clear that I have no intention of doing that kind of work, Natalia." He said crisply, his British accent clashed horridly with her rasped Russian.

Natalia's eyes rolled as she adjusted the strap of her spiked bra, "well we need to stay competitive with that new place in town somehow. They're taking our customers. We're trying to offer something they don't but that's useless if our most popular dancer is too sensitive to do it." She looked like she wanted to hit Arthur, but knew she couldn't because the ramifications would be so severe, and upsetting her older brother was something she would never do.

Knowing that Arthur would never change his mind, or at least not tonight, the blonde sighed and walked into the changing room to get ready for her own show.

Arthur left at last, heading out into the main communal area. The club was rather small and quite dirty, unwashed seats and wallpaper which stank of things that were technically illegal. There was a main stage that came through the middle of the room like a catwalk, where each act could perform once or twice a night, and two small circle platforms – one on each side – where dancers could takeover whenever they were free. The sides were lined with private-dance booths, and along the back wall were small rooms where the clubs newest commodity was being sold – sex.

There were two men standing outside those rooms in all black suits, ready to take names and payments, and dancers were usually waiting inside.

True to her word, a long line of hungry looking men, and even a couple of women, stared at Arthur as he left one of the doors between the booths. They were waiting for something they could never have, he told himself.

He went to one of the private dance booths and approached a nervous looking man standing outside. The man had brown hair that was perfectly neat except for a strand that stuck up proudly. As Arthur approached he turned expectantly, and Arthur noticed he had rather noble features. Glasses rested against high cheekbones, and a rather large mole sat dignified on his chin.

"Fancy a dance, poppet?" He asked in a soft voice, reaching forward to stroke the other man's hair. 'British charm' was his main selling point when abroad from his native land.

He felt the drugs pushing him as he led the nervous man into the booth and onto the soft armless couch. Music from the club was still overwhelmingly loud as he knelt with his knees either side of the other man's, feeling the fabric of his crotch rub against the other's. His hands tangled in soft brunette hair, pulling gently as he rubbed against the man beneath him.

"I'm l-looking for someone." The brunette started, but Arthur wasn't listening. Instead he moved closer and breathed softly into his ear, moaning every so often.

He could feel the man beneath him enjoying it so he rubbed harder once more. Touching was supposed to be illegal but it made so much more money so everyone did it.

Done teasing the man's hair, Arthur slid down from the man's lap and turned so his back was facing him. He leaned back to wrap his arms around the brunette's neck so that he could grind his ass softly into the man's quickly hardening crotch. He could feel thin, strong fingers run slowly up his chest and slowly circle his piercing before everything seemed to fade into a colourful, noisy blur.

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Morning. Sun. Pain. Headache. Not alone. Pain.

Arthur moaned something incoherently as he sat up in what was slowly dawning on him was not his bed. "Shit." He mumbled, running his hands though his choppy blonde hair, feeling glitter come off in his palm. He was trying to suppress his hangover when he felt someone hugging him from behind.

"Good morning." The soft accented voice was actually rather pleasant to hear and didn't aggravate his headache too badly. He felt soft but dry lips brush along his bare shoulder. "Last night was..." He placed a kiss at Arthur's neck and the Brit smiled. He couldn't remember it but he could bet it was pretty good by the way he was feeling.

"I don't suppose I picked up my clothes on the way out?" Arthur asked hopefully, deep-down knowing that he did not.

"You can borrow some of mine." The man said tiredly, "if you make me tea." He offered. Arthur laughed but agreed and the man gave the Brit directions to the kitchen, calling out 'green tea with lemon!'.

Arthur was delighted to see the man had a kettle for one, (he'd had to order one to his college room) and that he was well-stocked in milk, tea-bags and sugar. That way he wouldn't have to feel guilty about using the last of the milk for his own traditional breakfast tea.

Upon his return there were clothes folded neatly on the end of the bed. Black skinny jeans and a T-shirt with a crude slogan on the front. He eyed the brunette with amusement, "I wouldn't have thought that this would be your style." He commented jokingly, trying not to be rude but unable to picture such a man in those clothes.

"They belonged to my rather recent ex, he wont miss them." Arthur was about to inquire as to why when the man continued - "I'll be burning the rest later."

Not wanting to get involved in other people's business, Arthur just drank his tea and politely left.

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His head was pounding by the time he was on a bus. His body hated him, and the drugs he had taken had turned his hangover into some form life crisis. His whole body was tired and he felt like his life was falling apart. He knew that it was just the comedown but he was just so depressed. He was so strict about not selling his body, but then as soon as a customer smiles at him he jumps into bed with them. He hated himself for the drugs most of all. He had promised himself that he would never touch that stuff again, not ever, in any way. But the slightest hint of bad news and he collapsed. He hit his head against the glass window, wanting to cry but somehow managing to not.

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Arthur stood outside his dormitory room, frozen. He had been about to enter when he'd heard movement coming from inside. He was listening intently and could hear someone moving around, as if pacing. He took off his heeled shoes and quietly placed them aside before slowly slipping his key into the lock. His breath shook as he tried to push it open as quietly as possible.

Stood before him was a largely built young man with broad shoulders and dirty-blonde hair. His back was turned to Arthur and he seemed to be going through the Brit's drawers.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Arthur said sharply, frightening the other man.

The invader turned, grinning sheepishly. He moved forward and held out his hand, walking forward with false bravado. "Hello, I'm Alfred F. Jones and I'm going to be your new roommate." Arthur's heart twitched painfully in his chest. Clenched in the fist of the other man was the letter that had previously sent Arthur into emotional breakdown.

Alfred lowered his hand as Arthur took no move to shake it, and instead was squinting at the English man like he had small-print tattooed across his cheeks. "Do I know you?" He asked moving closer forward.

Arthur could feel his pulse thrum in his fingertips, heart palpatating, fear and anger drowning him from the inside. Alfred was so close now, he reached forward and touched the tips of Arthur's fringe. "Glitter?" That seemed to have sparked something, as he stepped back. "Arthur?...Arthur Kirkland?" A look of pain overtook the younger man's handsome features and for some reason Arthur did not want to look at it. Instead the older man coughed back his emotions and shoved past the other man with a curt "excuse me" and a quiet mumbling of the word "shower" before closing and locking the door to their en-suite bathroom.

Alfred stood, staring at the door for a long time. He wanted to go inside but heard the water running and knew he wouldn't be welcome. He hadn't been told any information about who he would be staying with. He'd been excited about making new friends, but of all the people in the world, Arthur Kirkland was possibly the worst person he could have been put with. Went to the unused bed on the opposite side of the room and sat down, wondering how he could be so unlucky. He was about to start ranting and raging about how unfair life was, but then his mind stopped. _Imagine how he feels? _It asked, calming the turbulence that had built inside. Alfred then thought of a particular piece of paper in his wallet, it was a list and at the top was the name of his new room-mate, circled and under-lined with all the times the American had picked up the phone or gone online, only to get too scared and hang up or log off again. He wanted to make amends, and now he had been given a chance.

He looked around their little shared space. Two beds with a desk between (on which Alfred was amused to see a tea set), and on the other side a table with some chairs.

Alfred remembered the kitchen area outside, and headed out with the first stage of his 'plans to make Arthur Kirkland not hate me'.

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Arthur always found that it didn't matter how much he scrubbed, glitter would still be stuck in some mysterious crevice at the end of every shower. It was a nightmare. He'd even gotten a nickname for it in high-school, 'glitter boy'.

Eventually he gave up, mainly because the spaces behind his ears were sore, and headed back out into his room again. He hadn't brought clothes into the bathroom, and so had wrapped a towel around his waist. He would have just gone out naked – to hell with his new room-mate – but that would be rude, and he was English.

He headed out and was too distracted by the look on Alfred's face to have even noticed the food at the table. He had never been stared at quite like that before. It was like the younger man was trying to think about more than his mind could handle. His eyes darted from his tattoo (a tribal piece up the side of his chest) to his nipple piercing, to his naval piercing, up to his face and then down to the towel wrapped almost intentionally loosely around his slender but muscular abdomen.

If 'holy shit' could have a physical manifestation, it would have looked like Alfred Jones at that moment in time.

"I see your appetite hasn't decreased." Arthur tried to look as unfriendly and intimidating as possible, he coldly glanced over the pancake and bacon stacks taking up the space on his table with a sense of disdain. Alfred continued to drink in his room-mates appearance, nodding before clearing his throat and tearing his face away.

"I made some for you, I thought we could talk." Arthur was almost touched by the gesture. Almost. The food looked like it had taken a lot of time to make, and it was arranged perfectly and carefully. It was early so it was rather thoughtful of his new room-mate to have gone to such lengths.

"No thank you, I find dining with pigs rather ruins my appetite." And with that Arthur went to the drawers under his bed and pulled out the clothes he wanted to wear that day, and without a seconds hesitation he pulled off the towel and began to get dressed.

Alfred's face lit up rather painfully. He was hurt by the Englishman's remark but too shocked and confused to process it.

This person before him was nothing like the shy nerdy British kid who had showed up at his high-school with ill-fitted clothes and a unicorn backpack. That boy wouldn't even get undressed in the same changing rooms as everyone else and would change in a toilet cubicle. Now he was naked and Alfred was trying so hard not to stare. Until he turned around to face away from the American, then it was free-game.

Arthur was muscular but thin, his muscles moving as he dressed. He was also heavily scarred, but they were faded and looked silver against his already pale skin. The tattoo went partly down his thigh, and there were others on his back. An electric guitar on his upper shoulder, a winged green rabbit on the center of his lower-back.

"Maybe I should ask for some tips on how to tone up, lose some weight, you seem to have managed it pretty well." It was a desperate attempt to cut through the awkwardness he was feeling. Anything to stop himself from staring.

Arthur turned, buttoning up his jeans as he did so. He looked over Alfred, judging him. "Maybe I should." He simply said, turning back around to pull on a shirt. He grabbed some shoes and left the room without even putting them on, leaving Alfred alone and confused.

It took a moment before it sunk in. "Hey!" Alfred called out to the empty room. "I'm not fat!" He added for good measure, squeezing the pudge of skin poking over his jeans.

It was no use, he had tried to break the ice with the older boy and it had ended as it always used to, with Alfred feeling confused, horny and annoyed.

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**AN:**

**I have no idea how long this story will be and only a brief plan of what will happen...I am amazing.**

**I almost destroyed my netbook during the writing of this chapter, it has taken weeks simply because my netbook will not behave. However I will be moving next week and hopefully I should be getting a computer x3 this is good news for me and good news for whoever likes this story (surely someone? anyone?)**

**I'll try to update ASAP but packing is evil and distracting. Also it's my birthday in a couple of days...**

**Hey, seeing as it's almost my birthday...and reviews make awesome presents...**

**basically reviewing will make me very very happy**

**like I might cry**

**more importantly I will make England strip.**

**I am actually going to try to keep this as a consistent thing! I've done one for this week - basically I'm going to write up a show to send to reviewers.**

**However the reviews have to be from actual accounts (Cant reply unless you're signed in) and to be an actual review (as much as I like ':)' it has to be a little more )**

**So get to it if you want a dance from Officer Kirkland ;)**

**-Awesomeness Personified**


	2. Chapter 2 - Sweet Dreams

**Sweet Dreams are Made of These**

Arthur gently adjusted his tear-off corset as it was digging into his armpit. He was sat in his dressing area ready to go on stage and hastily scribbling notes into small notebook. He still had a few minutes to write, if he was fast. Tonight was 'Fetish Night', and so Arthur had donned a black corset with thigh-high boots, with a riding crop as his choice accessory. He had debated for a while whether he wanted the D-ring collar or the studded one, then decided that the studded suited him better. He wanted to choose quickly because he had an assignment due the next morning and not enough written. Thus he was jotting every abstract thought down onto his paper so that hopefully he would get some sleep tonight.

Too soon, it was his turn to dance. Luckily the place was pretty packed so it would only be a short number. He was also partnered with another dancer, a young Belgian girl who really didn't belong there. This event was one of the few nights a month where the club catered to both heterosexual and homosexual interest, which was why the duo-sex dances. It had made him uncomfortable at first, especially as a lot of the girls in the club had started to look up to him, almost as a mother figure; mostly due to his experience. It made dancing so intimately with them feel almost wrong, but with enough practice he was able to overcome those feelings and find it almost fun. It had brought them all even closer together.

The music was starting to change, and he could hear Emma running down the hall towards him in her heels, the 'chink' of chains following her as she moved. He put his book back into his bag and checked himself in his large mirror once more, before wordlessly taking the leash attached to a collar on Emma's neck. She smiled up at him but it was weak and wavering, he smiled back more confidently.

"You look great my dear." He said gently, and she visibly relaxed, smiling more broadly. Her hair was loose as usual but she wore a series of belts over her breasts and stomach, chains attached to her wrists and a skirt that was really just a bigger belt. The customers would love her.

Their song started, slow with a heavy beat and fittingly dark. Arthur led Emma by the lead, pulling her forward at points. He could feel the intensity of the crowd, the club was alive with dark desire.

He pulled Emma forward, presenting her to the crowd. He held her hands over her head with one of his own while the other trailed down over her slim, soft shoulders, before trailing over the little dip at the base of her throat and down towards the apex of her breasts, covered by only thin strips of leather. His movements matched the beat of the song as he toyed with one of the straps, almost as if to move it, before running down her soft stomach to the tip of her buckled, leather skirt. She moved with him, bringing her hips back to grind against him, moaning softly as she did so. The people around them loved that. Money was practically raining around them. He pulled at the buckle and she pretended to struggle against his grasp, Arthur moved forward and bit lightly on her neck. She moaned again and Arthur undid the buckle of her skirt, exposing a tiny leather thong beneath. Arthur kept the skirt in his hand and used it to restrain her wrists. He was about to pull the leather riding crop from its holder on the side of his tight shorts when something hit him on the side of his head.

He went down instantly, his vision blurred. He could hear screaming from beside him and someone shouting. Someone familiar. They had climbed onto the stage. _But that's against the rules, _Arthur complained slowly moving his hand to the side of his head. He could feel a lot of blood but only a small injury. Everything was foggy and he could hear a loud ringing, and the sound of rushing water, or static; it was hard to say. Then shouting and a loud thud.

It was silent for a while, well it wasn't but Arthur couldn't hear anything over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears.

He could feel something hitting his face. "Wake up, you have to move." It was his boss's younger sister.

"M'fine don' worry about me." He mumbled back, everything had a fuzzy outline.

Everything suddenly came into focus and it was slightly terrifying. Everyone was gathered around him, probably thinking he was dead. It was terribly embarassing.

He felt himself being pulled towards the door to backstage, and before he knew what was going on he was back in his dresser seat, swaying unsteadily.

"What the hell just happened?" Arthur asked, as Natalia pressed something cold against the side of his head. He could feel that the bleeding was slowing already, he'd always had thick blood.

"Emma decided not to tell her boyfriend what she did for a living. He followed, he saw, he got drunk and angry, he saw you two and then he threw a bottle at you, because that's a reasonable behaviour." There was a feeling of anger radiating from Natalia, exposing what Arthur had always suspected. Deep down she really did care about everyone. Deep, deep down. It was rather scary actually.

They were silent for a while, Natalia gently cleaning the blood from his hair now that it had stopped. It was nice. It was almost maternal the way she would gently tilt his head so she could get to certain areas. Arthur felt something warm inside him at the realisation that this was what it was like to have someone care for him. It wasn't attraction or anything like that, it was just a simple pleasure of knowing that someone cares about you.

"The bleeding has stopped, do you want me to get someone to take you home?" She asked, her face neutral but the redness of her face showing that she was embarrassed to have to ask.

Arthur shook his head, his rent was due soon and he barely had enough for food as it was, plus that would burden someone else for the evening. "I'll be fine on the floor, don't worry." She scowled at him but didn't want him to think that she was worried so she didn't question it.

She nodded and walked away, the sound of her heels fading into the distance.

Honestly his head was really painful, and his vision was still rather blurry, but he took off his corset and collar, and pulled on an oversized shirt. He bit his lip in the mirror, the 'cute and vulnerable' act would have to do for tonight.

.

As he stepped out he could hear people talking close by, a Polish boy who was in his mid twenties who was supposed to be enjoying his day away from here was talking to someone just out of sight.

"It was so cool how you just grabbed that guy, and then bam! You totally knocked him out man it was rad as hell!"

"It was nothing, mon ami." An amused voice replied, Arthur froze and prepared his stoniest glare. He knew that voice.

"Francis, wasn't it made clear to you that you weren't welcome here?" Arthur asked walking up to the Frenchman. Francis laughed lightly and was about to respond but was cut off by Arthur's hyperactive Polish co-worker, Feliks.

"Bro', he totally just saved your life! That dude was about to cut you up like Kaszanka when this guy knocked him out with like one hit!" Francis looked smug.

"That was you?" Francis nodded and Arthur felt his insides tense. "Well then, I suppose a thanks are in order." Arthur said belligerently, forcing a smile.

"I would certainly appreciate it." Francis replied.

"Burn in hell, Francis."

"Oh, but then I would have to spend an eternity stuck with you."

"Tramp." They were getting angrier with each other, Arthur felt himself going numb with rage. He couldn't seem to help but get angry when around the other man.

"Punk."

"Thief." Felik's head snapped back and forth so fast his neck hurt.

"Slut."

"Coward."

"Murderer." Arthur's blood went cold, he went to turn away but couldn't.

"That's unfair Francis. You know I didn't start that fire."

"But you didn't try to save her."

"I did try-"

"Not hard enough!" Francis cried out, making everyone look. They stood staring at each other, Arthur looking ashamed and Francis radiating hate, before Francis turned and stormed off, wiping his face as he left. Arthur watched him go, knowing that he should go after him but also knowing that Francis wouldn't want him to.

"You know that guy?" Feliks asked, looking confused.

"An old friend." Arthur replied, walking away.

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The next day had Arthur thinking about his encounter with Francis. He'd come home late to find a snoring Alfred, obviously intoxicated, and in the wrong bed. He wasn't in the mood at this point so just headed into their shared bathroom with his laptop and his notes, he still had a report to write.

In turn the next morning Alfred was heading urgently to the bathroom with full a bladder and lots of hope when he almost stepped on his oddly dressed roomate.

"Arthur what the hell?" When Arthur didn't immediately respond Alfred started kicking his shins lightly. "Come on man, I gotta piss. And you're drooling on your laptop!"

Arthur woke, mumbling the word laptop and looking around himself helplessly.

"The fucking time is it?" He slurred, barely coherent. He checked his watch and ran off with his laptop, swearing continuously, still in the clothes from last night.

In High School if your work was late you would get yelled at, get detention, but in the end it didn't really matter too much. In College the later the work by the hour the lower your maximum percentage. At least this was true for Arthur's class. And work completed at around 4 in the morning on your bathroom floor was never going to do very well anyway.

This led to Arthur being victim to a series of very harsh reprimands. Shoddy work, disrespectful attitude, inappropriate attire, to name a few. Arthur had gone to brilliant and insigtful student to delinquent disappointment in a very very short space of time.

To make up for his bad grade Arthur spent hours in the school library. He was lucky that it was open so late because he had until first thing the next day to hand a whole new assignment. He had work again that evening too as he'd requested more hours after Alfred had moved in.

Alfred was also being a huge annoyance. He seemed determined to make life miserable for Arthur. He would follow him around all the time when Arthur was home, trying to start a conversation or make him food or just generally sit and stare at Arthur. Then suddenly his mood would shift if he wasn't getting attention and he'd swear and storm off, coming back later drunk and behaving the same way he had in the first place. It was annoying. And confusing. And Arthur just wanted him to go away.

He had also started asking about why Arthur was always dressed so strangely, and why there were so many scented body-oils and glitter body sprays in their shared bathroom. It worried the Brit that he was being so insistent. He was too curious for his own good.

Arthur tore himself away from daydreams about smothering the American and forced himself to keep writing.

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**I've moved! I am now living in the center of London and I am loving it~! I can hear Big Ben from my school and honestly it's so much fun!**

**It's delayed writing quite substantially however orz;;**

**Luckily(ish) I've been ill so I have had time to write at last (while I should be resting, no less) however I consider this a type of rest? **

**Either way I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I will get around to sending out the extras for everyone who reviewed last chapter, I just need to get it off my other computer! -hides- I'm going to write this chapter's one in a second! The one for this chapter will be an Arthur/Alfred dorm sharing moment of awkwardness (hopefully)**

**and for those who don't understand, I write an extra (tiny) one-shot that I send to reviewers (who have to be signed in) as a type of thanks! Unfortunately with moving I'm slightly delayed but I WILL get around to it! and they'll be different each time! They might not happen every week and I apologise if the writing is terrible and mismatched in them (I'm still trying to work out a style for writing them) but they're just a little thing I've wanted to try for a while!**

**However the review has to say something substantial, as in just sending a ':)' or 'pls' wont cut it unfortunately!**

**Oh and the 'song of the chapter' this week was the Marilyn Manson cover of 'Sweet Dreams'**

**Last chapter's song was 'Sexy Naughty Bitchy Me' by Tata Young in case I forgot to say OTL**

**Many thanks!**

**~Awesomeness Personified**


	3. This is Halloween

**You know how I thought I would have free time? I was so wrong OTL also I know this chapter's late but I started it yesterday morning, it just decided to take like 20+ hours to write**

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Arthur had just finished lacing up his light pink thigh-high PVC boots when Alfred threw open the door, sweating profusely. He stopped, blinking stupidly at the sight of his British room-mate in a tight, shiny, bubblegum-pink miniskirt, thigh high boots and a shirt that covered only to just beneath his nipples, complete with accessories, of course. His throat went red first, then it spread to the sides of his neck, then travelled up and engulfed his face. He was slowly getting used to Arthur's unusual dress sense, but it still had the power to surprise him at times.

He often tried not to stare, but sometimes it was hard, especially when certain outfits left nothing to the imagination. For example, he learnt that Arthur recently had his other nipple pierced – he had a tight latex vest to thank for that.

He then looked to the small white hat pinned into his hair, "a nurse?" He asked hesitantly, Arthur nodded, looking around for his phone. Arthur's temperament and behaviour had been even more changeable lately. He'd been home a lot more than usual and would actually talk to Alfred occasionally, though that was pretty much just to insult him or tell him to stop staring. Still, he was talking, and Alfred couldn't help but feel like that was a positive. "You've been acting kinda weird this week, have you lost a bet or something?" He asked, watching his room-mate getting increasingly flustered.

"What? Oh. No. I don't know." He replied distractedly, checking the pockets of the jeans he'd been wearing earlier that day. "Weird how?" He tossed them to the side and began looking around himself.

Alfred put down the shopping bags he'd been holding down by his bed and shrugged. "I don't know, nicer I guess?" He said with a sort of sadness, but also a little hope that things were just looking up for them.

"My sincerest apologies." Arthur replied sarcastically. "I'll endeavour to abstain from such horrendousness again." He grabbed the edge of his duvet and began shaking it. "I can't find my fucking phone." He began shaking it more violently before gasping and clutching his head. Alfred called out his name but he didn't respond, he was still bent over clutching his head when his legs started shaking and he swayed slightly.

"Arthur?" Alfred put his hands on the other man's shoulders. "Artie are you okay?" He asked, bending down to peer into his face. Arthur let out a deep breath and stood up, nodding slightly as he pushed out of Alfred's grasp.

"Fine, I'm fine. Just a bit dizzy is all." He said firmly, returning to his search. Then, as if realising he was being too nice he added, "don't just touch me like that, for fuck sake."

"You swear an awful lot." Arthur just grunted in response so Alfred backed away towards his own bed. "Do you have to leave soon?" He asked, trying not to stare as Arthur bent to look under his bed, exposing way too much skin.

"Soonish, why?"

"Just figured you might want a drink?" Arthur stiffened, taken off guard since he'd just been quite rude.

"Sure, that would be lovely, thanks." He replied, standing carefully. He looked over as Alfred went over to the minifridge by his bed that had been delivered earlier in the week, coming back with a bottle of water. Arthur felt almost ashamed for snapping at the younger man.

"So..." Alfred began, sitting on Arthur's bed as he passed him the water. "Going out tonight?" He asked, wanting to smack himself on the head immediately after for asking such a stupid question. _Look at the way he's dressed, idiot_.

"Yeah, what about you? Any plans?" Alfred tried to mask his disappointment, focusing on the way Arthur's slim but strong fingers twisted the lid from the bottle with ease.

As Arthur drank his throat quivered and Alfred had the strangest temptation to lick his lips. Suddenly Alfred realised he was staring. "Yes, yes I'm gonna do up the place and have a spooky films and games party." He said, quickly motioning to the bags he'd come in with and finding himself feeling very uncomfortable under Arthur's knowing gaze.

"Well don't let them touch any of my stuff." Arthur replied, lamenting at the thought of a hoard of 1st year Jock-types trashing his room. "And you're to clean up any mess and pay for any damages." He said firmly. Alfred nodded but his smile dulled considerably. Suddenly the room became tense and awkward, wanting to get away from it Arthur cleared his throat. "Anyway, best be off. Hate to be late and all." Alfred said his goodbyes and wished him a good night, and with that he left, after what was the nicest conversation they had had so far.

After the door had closed Alfred continued to sit in Arthur's bed for a while. He knew he should get up soon but he just wasn't feeling like he should.

He lay down and cuddled into Arthur's pillow. It was all sparkly and smelled of the unique softness that was just Arthur. He just lay there for a while, contemplating his life and everything that had led to that exact moment in time.

He felt a little sad.

That seemed to be happening a lot lately, suddenly a small wave of sadness would just engulf him and make him feel so worthless as a human being. He'd been wondering more and more what his existence was worth to the world.

He didn't like thinking too long about that.

He ran his hands down his face, feeling the bumps of lingering acne under his fingers. He began to wonder how Arthur managed to avoid getting spots, he'd always had such perfect skin. He'd always had such perfect everything, perfect voice, perfect weight, even his name was perfect. "Kirkland. _Kirk_land." Alfred found just saying it out loud made him smile. Arthur was so muscular too, Alfred wanted to exercise but games and pizza were too good. He knew he was chubby but going to the gym was _hard. _He poked the area where his belly would always poke out over his jeans with disdain. Hero's had rock solid bodies all muscular like Arthur not all squishy, the only hero he could be was SuperNerd or MegaLoser. He felt himself getting sad so he quickly sat up, he needed to distract himself with festive cheer.

* * *

Alfred looked proudly at the skeletons that stood in his room. It had taken all of his patience, and knowledge of high-school biology classes that he had never actually believed he would need (they were self-assemble), and over an hour and a half of his life, but he had done it. They were dressed up as himself and Arthur (he may have borrowed some of Arthur's clothes) and were surrounded by various other pumpkin and bat-themed decorations. He'd even carved a pumpkin and put it on their table, which had moved from between their beds to against the wall in front of Alfred's bed so he could set up his TV and Playstation and Nintendo on it. Alfred loved Halloween. The room looked great, shiny and a little stereotypical maybe, but he loved it. It was worth all the money, jumping around trying to get tape to stick to the ceiling, and general stress of hanging a wire of black paper bats around the room. He had finally got to sit down and had just turned on his Playstation when suddenly there was knocking on his door. Alfred stared at the door, wondering if he had just imagined it or if some people in his building were trying to prank him. There was knocking again. Luckily Al hadn't gotten round to actually watching any horror movies yet, or he would have been a lot worse and potentially pathetically violent. He cautiously made his way forward, uncertainty engulfing him from within as he unlocked the door.

Arthur stumbled forward and instinctively Alfred reached out and caught him. He held the older man upright, conscious of how small the weight pushing against him was, and the fact that Arthur couldn't seem to hold his own weight concerned him. "Arthur?" He didn't seem to be able to recognise his own voice, eyes drifting in and out of focus. "Arthur!" He repeated, firmer this time, his voice worried. Although his body was limp, Arthur still seemed to be conscious, but his eyes were glossy and unresponsive. As he was partially dragged and laid gently down onto Alfred's bed, his eyes began focus.

"Arthur?" It was gentle, soft, and Arthur nodded, closing his eyes for a few seconds. Slowly they opened once more, and Alfred was silenced by their depth. They were like green fields dampened by the rain, or the moss clinging to an ancient parapet.

"Work sent me home." He voice was low but he sounded annoyed, it broke the American out of his transfixiation. The older man didn't look in the mood for questions, so the younger didn't ask any. The Brit blinked up at him a few times, becoming increasingly focused. "Sorry to intrude on your..." He looked around the room and then back up at Alfred, confused. "I thought you were having a party?"

Alfred looked round the room too, as if noticing for the first time that he was alone. "Yeah, I kind-of didn't invite anyone." He looked embarrassed, not turning back to look at Arthur for a while.

"What about all your friends, why wouldn't you invite them?" Alfred shifted and began playing with his hands. Arthur pushed himself up so that he was sitting straight, at just below eye-level with Alfred. He felt bad, maybe he'd made Alfred feel like he couldn't invite anyone.

"I kind of don't have any?" Al replied and Arthur frowned, he'd been actively avoiding the younger man since he'd joined, so hadn't seen him in school. But he was so popular when they used to go to school together that it was hard to believe that Alfred would ever be alone.

_So he was just going to spend Halloween on his own playing games?_ It struck Arthur as sad, as much as he hated Alfred, it upset him to think of the younger man being alone all the time. He knew that feeling well. _Do I hate Alfred though?_ A small voice asked, as he watched the younger man play awkwardly with the edges of his clothing. _I do. Right? _

"Do you want to play a game with me?" His usually loud American accent was so bashful and so filled with hope that Arthur didn't feel like he had any right to say no.

Four blue shells on Mariokart later had Arthur sincerely regretting his agreement. Mostly.

"For fuck sake just admit defeat and stop using cheap tricks to try and beat your superiors!" Arthur was squirming as Alfred had discovered (to his immense delight) that Arthur was very very ticklish around his still-exposed tummy.

"Heck no! I will not lose this game to a guy who picks Rosalina on his first go!" Arthur tried squirming away, suppressing laughter and elbowing at his rival furiously.

"Oh and Yoshi is much better?!" He was slipping, he kept messing up on his drifting. The finish line would be soon and he was falling into second place. He panicked and threw himself forward, blowing a raspberry on Alfred's stomach with his finger jammed onto the accelerator.

It worked, Alfred threw the controller and started giggling manically, pushing Arthur's face away from his own sensitive stomach. Arthur overtook, he'd one the game. They collapsed in a fit of breathless laughing, Alfred trying and failing to be mad.

"You are such a penis!" Alfred laughed, straightening the glasses he usually only wore when alone.

"Well you are what you eat." Arthur replied with a wink, sitting up properly and rubbing his stomach from where it was sore from laughing. He had almost stopped laughing until he saw the American's face.

Alfred's eyebrows went above his fringe as he both tried to comprehend and retaliate against Arthur's comment. He gave up and sighed dramatically, recovering his lost controller. "So are you really..._you-know_." Alfred asked, sitting beside Arthur on his small bed.

"Alfred, look at me. Does a straight man dress like this?" Arthur was still in his sexy-nurse outfit, his trim waist exposed to the world. Alfred looked like it was a trick question. "The answer is sometimes. Especially if his girlfriend asks nicely. But, in this case no."

Alfred laughed, relaxed by the way Arthur had responded. "So then, what does a bisexual person dress like?"

It was Arthur's turn to laugh, "You." It wasn't said unkindly but Alfred's whole body tensed, almost like he expected the world to fall down around him. "Did you really think you were being subtle?" Alfred looked genuinely afraid and almost like he was likely to cry sometime soon. Arthur could be cruel at times but never intentionally if he could help it. "Shall we put a film on?" He asked and Al nodded, quickly moving so that his back was to Arthur. _Shit. _He thought, _this is no mere crush._

Once the film was on, Alfred moved back to Arthur's side. Both of them lay stretched out, close together on the tiny bed. The film was one everyone had seen at some-point, 'The Ring'. Everyone except, apparently, for Alfred.

"I bought this at the store earlier it looked really cool!" Alfred said enthusiastically. Arthur didn't have the heart to tell him that he'd already seen it in both English and Japanese, and read the manga series.

Less than 5 minutes into the film and Alfred was almost in tears and was literally shaking, and then his phone rang. He screamed like someone was trying to murder him, and it was the most pitifully emasculate thing that Arthur had ever heard in his life. "My alarm." Alfred explained, catching his breath as Arthur looked at him in both confusion and amusement. It was not a good look, his eyebrows made it look like two lost caterpillars were too stubborn to ask for directions. He paused the movie and headed to the bathroom, quickly grabbing something from his bag on the way.

A few moments later he staggered back in, clutching his wrist. "My hand!" He yelled dramatically, Arthur's head snapped round as the American staggered towards him. On Alfred's finger was a fake nail, obvious made of bent plastic, intended to look like it had gone through the finger.

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Is that supposed to scare me Jones?" he drawled, in what Alfred had nicknamed his 'Malfoy' voice.

"Worth a shot." Al mumbled, taking off the toy. He reached into the pocked of his hooded-jacket and pulled out the box of tablets his alarm had reminded him to take.

"Strattera?" Arthur asked, reading the large font on the box. Alfred nodded, playing with the packaging before popping a capsule out of its packaging and swallowing it dry with practised ease.

"For my ADHD." Arthur nodded, it was something he'd always suspected but never been sure of. The younger man avoided eye contact and started turning the box over in his hands.

"When did you get diagnosed?" Arthur asked, confused when Al started laughing.

"About half a year ago. I was at a party and people were taking some stuff, so I joined in. I was an idiot like that back then. Anyway, while everyone else was bouncing off the ceiling I just felt really calm. Then I found out it was Ritalin. So I went to the doctor and said that I think I should be tested. About a week later I get given these." He shook the packet for emphasis. "Tadaa." He said jokingly, toying with the packet once more.

Arthur nodded thoughtfully, it all made sense. Al was always this crazy ball of energy, running around and over and through people. He never seemed to stop. It was strange to compare the loud, boisterous Alfred he knew to the one sat beside him, quiet and nervous and perhaps a little self-conscious. "You really have changed."

Alfred looked up at Arthur, feeling as though a tonne of bricks were sliding off his back. "So have you." He smiled and it ached in its authenticity.

* * *

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* * *

**Happy (belated) Halloween!**

**I know this update has taken super long but literally it took so long to write! I've been really thinking about my writing etc lately, and I'm genuinely considering a huge revamp of everything I've ever done on this account at some point in the near future. I'm going to focus on developing what I can do and practising what I can't before I begin, but I'm excited!**

**I'm about to plug in my netbook and hope it has the ending things for the last 2 chapters for me to send to reviewers -hopefully it'll turn on- the one for this chapter is HUGE btw and really not something you'll want to miss**

**or maybe you do I don't know but omg it was so fun to write**

**you know the rules, more than one-word review and you get a little Halloween treat~ **

**Hope you guys had a great time!**

**-Awesomeness Personified**


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